Dangerous
by AlexandriaTheInferno
Summary: Harry is vacationing peacefully in America when a man crashes through his motel window. Rated T for language. More of a prequel to a romance, and complete unless inspiration strikes me again.


Disclaimer: Everything Harry Potter and Supernatural belongs to their respective owners, not me. Song lyrics are "Dangerous" by David Guetta.

**DANGEROUS:**

**"I don't know what you're thinking, sugar  
****But I just got that feeling, sugar  
****And I can hear the sirens burning  
****Red lights turning  
****I can't turn back now  
****So hold on tight."**

Harry was jolted from sleep by the crash of breaking glass. With veteran reflexes he yanked his wand from under a pillow and rolled from the bed into a crouch, eyes alert and assessing. Laying in a pile of broken glass that was once his window, was a man bleeding from a multitude of gashes with one arm at an angle from his shoulder. Through the shattered window Harry watched a figure dash from the scene at an unnatural speed.

_Well fuck,_ Harry thought. _Can't seem to go anywhere without trouble rearing it's ugly face._

He quickly cast a tracer on the retreating figure, but the spell felt fuzzy, like a bad telly signal. Pushing the thought aside for later he repaired the glass and then levitated the injured man onto his bed to get a better look at his injuries. When he flicked the lights on he was startled to see the man struggling to rise.

"What the _fuck_ is going on! You just waved that little stick and-" the pleasantly deep voice cut off abruptly once he was on his feet, and he promptly collapsed into unconsciousness again. Harry rushed to catch him before he hit the ground, and lowered him once more onto the bed. As he began stripping the man of his shirt he couldn't help but wonder why the hell he wasn't calling the police and skipping town.

"Right, because I'm a bloody hero and I can't just walk away from a problem," he muttered bitterly. His determination and curiosity strengthened more as he got his first real look at the gashes. They were long and deep, and made by what had to be claws three or four inches long. The man, who Harry dubbed The Window Crasher, had at least a dozen on his chest, a few on his arms, and a dislocated shoulder. No average muggle could throw a man of his stature through a window like that, especially one who was solid muscle like this one. Harry could even sense the smallest wisps of raw and dark magic quickly fading from the wounds as he healed them. The arm would be trickier, but he would just have to manage. Harry wanted to rage and scream at fate for interrupted his vacation, but forced his thoughts to calm, knowing he'd need all his concentration if he wanted to get some sleep that night.

**...**

**"I don't know where the lights are taking us  
****But something in the night is dangerous  
****And nothing's holding back the two of us  
But, baby, this is getting serious."**

**...**

"Hey, who the hell are you, and what's going on?" A gruff voice spoke, and Harry could feel someone shaking him. He flinched awake, bolting straight out of the chair he was sleeping in. He caught sight of annoyed green eyes, and bandages before relaxing.

"Morning, Sunshine, how are you feeling?" He questioned, voice rough with sleep, as he grabbed two bottled waters from his bag. The Window Crasher gave him a look of pure venom as he caught one of the bottles, draining the entire thing before speaking again.

"I feel surprisingly good considering I was thrown through a window only to be manhandled by a strange British dude with some kind of weird freaky power." His tone was laced with suspicion and sarcasm, and his entire body was poised as if to fight or run at any moment.

"My name is Harry Potter," I began, sticking my hand out to shake. He gave me an incredulous look, not relaxing at all as he shook my hand briefly.

"Dean Winchester," he stated simply..

"Well Dean, I know you have a lot of questions, but I have a few answers so relax. I promise I won't harm you. You're still healing and I wouldn't want you to undo any of my hard work." He didn't relax so much as he settled down, alert but not ready to flee or attack at any moment.

"We'll start with your first question; I'm a British Wizard vacationing here in America."

"Are you one of Crowley's men? Are you with the demons?" His voice rose again, and he reached into his pocket as if for a weapon, which I knew he didn't have.

"I have no idea who Crowley is, and I can promise I side with no demons. I'm no satanic or demon worshiping witch that seems to be so common in this part of the world. I'm an actual wizard, I was born with my powers, which is why I was able to repair the window and heal you so easily without any complicated ritual. Now, I have a few questions myself about what attacked you. It was obviously not human, and considering your suspicion of me, your previous scars, and the protective rune tattooed on your chest; I get the feeling this isn't you're first rodeo."

He sat quietly in thought for a minute or two, seeming to argue with himself for a bit. "No, it's not my first rodeo, but I still don't trust you, and you shouldn't get involved in this. Thank you for healing me, but just tell me what you know and I'll leave."

"Hmm," I pretended to consider it. "No, I don't think so. See I'm pretty mad at whoever threw you through my window for disturbing my sleep and my vacation, plus I have this annoying habit of being nosy so I can't just walk away from a problem when I see it. How about I make you a deal. You tell me what you know, I tell you what I know, and we solve this problem. Then if we don't die, I'll tell you whatever you want, and we go our separate ways. What do you think?"

He sat silent and thinking for another couple of minutes. "Oh what the hell, I don't work alone very often anyways. Just let me make a few phone calls." He stopped in embarrassment as his stomach rumbled. "You wouldn't happen to have any food, also?" He said almost sheepishly, cracking a small and hesitant smile.

Harry's stomach did a little flip flop at the sight of that smile, and a sense of foreboding washed over him. Maybe he was really in over his head with this one, but it was too late now. "I think I've got something in my bag that will tide us over. Is there anyone you need to call? You'll have to use the phone in here, sadly your cellphone broke in your pocket last night."

"Yeah, my brother Sam. He's dealing with a similar... incident just a town over." The hesitance was clear in his voice, and Harry felt a little more confident that Dean was trusting him at least a little.

"Well go on ahead, I think I've got some clothes you can borrow too." Harry started pulling clothes and food and all sorts of other things out of his bag, and he could practically hear Dean's jaw drop in shock. Undetectable Extension Charms sure were handy, he couldn't help showing off just a little.

Dean's conversation with his brother was just a simple summary of what was going on. There was no unnecessary chitchat, and Harry found himself growing more curious about this strange man. For a while after there was only the sounds of eating as they devoured the sandwiches he made, until he decided it was an okay time to ask a few more questions of his own.

"So, do you and Sam deal with these kinds of situations often?"

"Yeah pretty often, we're what you'd call Hunters. We take care of things that go bump in the night."

"Hmm, so what specifically are we dealing with?"

Dean hesitated slightly, then seemed to push on anyways. "A werewolf, this time. Pretty strong too, but that's to be expected I guess since tonight is the full moon."

"Ah," was all Harry said for a while, finishing up the last of his sandwich before moving on. "Explain to me the basics of the werewolves here. What I felt last night was different from what I've encountered back home before."

"They transform when they're asleep, during a full moon, and they hunt and devour humans. They always eat the heart of their victim, which is the biggest clue. When transformed they have claws, sharp teeth, and super strength. The only way to kill them is with silver. I've got some in my car, which isn't parked too far from here."

"So we go after it as soon as the sun is down."

"Well, the problem is I don't know where it's at," Dean was obviously frustrated.

"No worries, I placed a simple tracer spell on it last night so I can find it." Dean looked a bit wary and confused, but nodded and began to go deeper into making a game plan.

We spent the rest of the day putting the finishing touches on our plan (basically get in, take him out, and get out of town) and Harry healed up the last few bruises and aches Dean had. They recovered the Impala, and drove across town with Harry giving directions. They ended up at a small house in rough condition in the outskirts. The yard was dead, and the paint peeling. Dean parked around the corner, and dug around in the trunk to arm himself with a few things. Two silver knives, a gun with silver bullets, and some extra magazines.

Dean offered Harry one of the knives, but Harry just shook his head as he reached into his bag.

"It just has to be silver, right?"

Dean nodded, then his eyes widened in shock when Harry pulled out Godric Gryffindor's sword from his bag.

"Where in the world did you get that? And what is it?" Dean was astonished and a little wary again.

Harry gave it a few practice swings, it had been a long time since he last had need of the sword. "It's a long story, I'll tell you later."

"You're just full of interesting secrets, aren't you Harry?" The question was rhetorical, and Harry stayed silent as they moved slowly towards the house. Dean picked the lock on the front door, while Harry went in the back with a quick alohamorra. The house was silent and dark, but for one faint light coming from the bedroom. They met up in the hallway, and started to move towards the bedroom as the moon started to rise.

They heard a rustle, and suddenly standing next to Dean was the werewolf in it's full transformed glory. Dean shot and missed as it slammed him into the wall, the claws of it's right hand slashing through his skin, and the scent of blood filled the cast a stunner, and the werewolf staggered back from Dean, turning angrily towards Harry. Dean managed to get off a shot to the werewolf's torso, but it still didn't go down until Harry took up Gryffindor's sword and ran him straight through the heart. As soon as it was over, Harry was at Dean's side. Rushing through healing spells to fix up chest, _again_.

"Bloody Americans, you just can't resist getting hurt, can you?" Harry ranted, and Dean chuckled dryly.

"I've had worse." They were both quiet as Harry finished up with a few drops of Dittany from a vial in his pocket, and as they walked to the Impala Dean finally spoke up again.

"Thank you, it was a lot easier and faster with your help. I really appreciate it." Harry stopped at the car, and turned to give Dean a smile.

"I'm glad I could help, it's been a while since I did anything useful. 'About time you got off your ass and did something,' my friend Ron would say. I've just been... drifting for the last few years."

Green eyes connected, and some silent communication between veteran souls seemed to pass. The moment was over quickly, though.

"Got any plans for the next little while, Harry? Sam heard rumors of some restless spirits the next state over. We could always use an extra pair of hands." Dean seemed a bit nervous, but also hopeful. Harry couldn't help but feel the sad knot in his stomach disappear, and a different nervousness took it's place; a happy anticipation.

"I don't have anything planned, and I would love to see some more action." Harry said after a moment of thought.

Dean was relieved, clapping him on the back with a brief laugh. "I can promise, you won't be bored." He then turned to get into the car.

_Oh yes, I do not want to miss out on this. _Harry thought as he stared at Dean's ass, before turning to get in the car himself.

**...**

**"Show me your soul  
****I gotta know  
****Bet that you're beautiful inside  
****Toes on the gas  
****Car moving fast  
****Come take the wheel and drive.**

**It's dangerous, so dangerous  
****I wanna do it again."**

AN: Let me know if you see any mistakes, and I would love constructive criticism. Be gentle though, and don't flame. I only spent an hour or two on this one night because I couldn't sleep (it kept nagging at my brain, too much sugar and music), but I figured I would put it up anyway. Thank you for reading:)


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